


Unpredictable

by AllThisFeelings



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (that's about how underage as it get's), How Do I Tag, M/M, Underage Kissing, reaaaally slight torture?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-10 23:14:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/791290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllThisFeelings/pseuds/AllThisFeelings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Oh my, what fair skin you have”, murmured Peter softly, barely moving his lips, extanding his claws while he spoke. Without considering first, that maybe baiting the guy who had one hand around your throat, and a claw in your face was indeed not the best idea Stiles quipped back, “Oh my, what bad breath you have”, before clamping his mouth shut again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unpredictable

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is pretty much my first serious attempt at fanfiction. And it's really short.  
> Anyway. I'm kind of bad judging my own work, I just hope it really isn't too terrible.  
> It's unBETA'd as well, so there might be mistakes and/or way too many commas.  
> If you notice any horrid mistakes, feel free to point them out. (in a constructive way, please)  
> Also, if you squint with both eyes, the torture is Peter scratching Stiles face. The underage is only kissing. But I'm a bit cautious so. yeah.
> 
> Otherwise, I hope you enjoy a little bit of Peter/Stiles, as there is way, waaay not enough of it out there.

Before Stiles could react in any way Peter was in front of him, lifting him up by his throat like he weight nothing at all and pressing him hard against the cold stonewall, he collided with earlier.  
He could feel his shoulder blades and his scalp grinding uncomfortably against the rough surface.  
The next thing he noticed were the fingers digging into the vulnerable flesh of his throat, cutting of his air supply.  
The boy felt his pulse desperately thrumming through his veins; his head feeling like it’d bloat and bloat until it burst.  
He made a choking sound against the hand, which was currently trying to push his larynge in.  
Peter eased his grip up, just enough for Stiles to breath easier, but far away from light enough to break away.  
As soon as he wasn’t busy with choking anymore, he came to awareness just how close Peter stood.  
Stiles felt the older man’s moist, warm breath brushing over his lower face and neck in frequent intervals and the way the body in front of him seemed to just outright radiate heat.  
Breathing in he smelt the leathery, clean scent of the man before him. He thought, maybe Peter would smell like rich, dark earth and woods, a masculine heady scents, or maybe like metal and dirt, since he and his nephew seemed to resident either in the old Hale house, or in the ruin of a train depot, but his scent was surprisingly light and subtle.  
Not that Stiles spent a lot of time contemplating what Peter Hale smelled like.  


He gulped heavily.

Peter’s eyes traveled from where they were fixed on his hand, still clamped around Stiles throat, up to his eyes, but not without doing what seemed to be a thorough study of his face, lingering on his lips for just a second, before continuing up to his eyes.  
As he met Stiles wide-eyed gaze a lazy smirk tickled the corners of his mouth.  
Stiles was frantically searching for a witty comeback, a sarcastic comment, anything to distract Peter, but it seemed his ADD-driven brain decided to just now give up on him and all he could do was stare back at Peter, who now slowly lifted up his other hand, until it was on the same height as his face.  
A fingertip was set lightly, almost gentle on his jawline.  
“Oh my, what fair skin you have”, murmured Peter softly, barely moving his lips, extanding his claws while he spoke.  
Without considering first, that maybe baiting the guy who had one hand around your throat, and a claw in your face was indeed not the best idea Stiles quipped back, “Oh my, what bad breath you have”, before clamping his mouth shut again. Also, probably not his best comeback, but he didn’t work well under pressure; could you blame a guy?  
Peter chuckled, a low hearty sound, which rumbled through his chest, sending a shiver running down Stiles back, which definitely wasn’t from the cold alone.  
“Always the feisty one, are we.” he spoke back, not batting an eye on the insult.  
The were moved his gaze away from the younger man’s eyes, down to were his claw slash finger was still resting.  
“You know, Stiles”, he started in a soft voice, his look going kind of distant, “red always used to be my favorite color.” before he pressed his sharpened nail down in unblemished, soft flesh and slowly dragged down.

Stiles drew in a sharp, short breath at the stinging feeling of breaking skin and the claw, cutting its way down his whole jawline, resting an inch short or so before his chin.  
He stood tense against the wall, the cold and dampness slowly making its way through his multiple layer of clothes, his brain rattling trying to predict Peter’s next move.  
So, _of course_ Peter was a creeper wolf extraordinaire with a dramatic flair and he _did_ kill his own niece and bit Stiles’ best friend, tried to kill the love of is his teenage life, tried to kill his nephew as well and ripped out the throat of the bitch who burned down his family (that was sort of really understandable, though) and Stiles could go on like this for a very long time.  
All of this made Peter Hale a very unpredictable man.  


But when Peter leaned in and slowly lapped up the trail of blood that had made its way down his throat, his tongue a warm, wet sensation against his cool skin Stiles mind went completely blank.  


Unfortunately a blank mind didn’t keep the small whimper in, that left his mouth when Peter licked further up, trailing slowly, almost soothingly, like he’d try to dampen the pain, over the cut he made.  
Peter lifted his head up a bit, so it was exactly in front of Stiles’, once again staring him dead in the eyes.  
He didn’t move for a moment, before resting his left hand and forearm (the one he cut him with, Stiles mind supplied) next to the teenagers head, the other one sneaking up from where it was still curled loosely around his neck until it was cupping his left jawline, one thumb pressing down just a bit under his lower lip.

Stiles was still trying to comprehend what the freaking hell was happening just now.  
He already knew that Peter had taken some kind of sick interest in him (the whole offering him the bite kind of gave that away), and he totally has the creepy werewolf-zombie uncle down, but that was definitely new.  
And being pressed flush against a wall by a significantly older _werewolf, who had killed people_ and just now licked up his own blood, for god’s sake, probably shouldn’t be this hot.  
Except, it kinda really was.  
Who would have thought he would be into this kind of stuff?  
Stiles internally musings were interrupted though, when Peter slowly closed the distance between their faces and- holy shit, was Peter Hale seriously kissing him?!  


It wasn’t much of a kiss at first – more of dry lips pressed together – neither of them had their eyes closed. Peter’s lips were smooth and soft against his own and interestingly not chapped at all. Maybe he used Chap Stick.  
Peter seemed to hesitate, gauging Stiles reaction, before he cautiously moved his lips against Stiles’.  
And who exactly gave Stiles’ head the permission to tilt, so his mouth fit better against Peter’s? And when did he close his eyes?  
His train of thoughts broke off though, when Peter swept his tongue over his lower lip and prodded his lips to part – successfully.  
A helpless groan escaped him, as Peter explored his mouth, like he had all time in the world. Not fair. Also, no way in hell he’d let Peter have the entire rein.  


Coming back to his senses he started to kiss back fiercer, the kiss turning deeper and a lot sloppier. Stiles brought up his hands, resting one against Peter’s chest, and burying the other in his surprisingly soft hair to bring him in closer.  
He pressed his face further against Peter’s, mashing his nose against his cheek, feeling his teeth press against the other man’s upper jaw through flesh; trying to get more contact.  
And he definitely would deny the mewling broken sound he made when Peter broke the kiss, up until his death.  
The werewolf chuckled again, amused at the teenagers eagerness and clumsiness.  
He was just about to lean back in and continue their little kissing session and damn, if Stiles wasn’t up for this plan, when the echoing sound of a car door slammed shut startled them out of the haze they were in.

And just like that Peter was gone, vanished, leaving Stiles behind with slightly swollen lips, an aching problem and a lot to reflect about.  
Damn the Hale men and their ninja-like ability to appear and disappear in the blink of an eye.  


Seriously. Damn them.


End file.
